


A house divided

by politifiction



Category: Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: Angst, F/M, kind of, with a happy ending?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politifiction/pseuds/politifiction
Summary: She wasn’t sure whether this was progress, if any of it was.





	

She couldn’t sleep.

She hadn’t slept properly in days, and it was taking its toll. She no longer writhed back and forth, but lay stony still, frozen through by betrayal. She had stopped crying, eventually, but as she lay on their bed now she wasn’t sure whether that was progress, if any of this was. _Could_ she even progress in the wake of such a shock, or more pressingly could they? Hillary blinked, staring back up at the carved ceiling above her. This was the house of freedom and courage, the symbol of democracy around the world and the home of some of the most influential figures in American history. This house had been her, no their, dream for years and j _esus_ how she hated it.

Clenching the sheet in her hand, she took a deep breath in, paused and then let it go, attempting to let go of everything. She found she couldn't which was hardly surprising but provoked a tiny shriek of frustration. What had she done to deserve this? This was a question she had sometimes asked herself over the past few years, usually out of wonder, amazement, pure joy. What had she done to deserve this honor, this place in history that so few were afforded? What had she done to deserve this ability, to change lives for the better? What had she done to deserve this man, who had given her so many years of love, as well as their beautiful daughter?

And now, what had she done to deserve _this_.

* * *

 

He couldn’t sleep.

The couch wasn’t the most comfortable of beds but he could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was the guilt wracking his body, cutting him more than any Republican jibe ever could. He had hurt her, badly, and he didn’t know whether they could get past it. He wanted too, of course he did but did she? The uncertainty clawed at his mind leaving him helpless and defeated. When he had felt like this before he had always been able to turn to her for help. Hillary had carried him through the Presidential campaign and through the difficulties of his Presidency until he had shattered the bond between them. She was left lying in the broken glass of their marriage and he alone with a battered conscience and two bloodstained feet.

God he needed a drink.

* * *

 

She rose quietly, pushing off the sheets binding her. It was 2am already and she sighed as she exited the room. Maybe someday she would get a full night's sleep again, but this was not that night. She nodded wearily to the two secret service agents stationed in the hall, leaving the lights off as she entered the kitchen.

Already she could see his silhouette, bent slightly over the sink, a tumbler of something strong clutched in his hand. She exhaled quietly, saw his back straighten as he heard her. She could feel her defenses rising in a way that they never had around him. Although her inclination was to run, she stood her ground as she always had. He turned round to face her and she bit her lip.

‘Hillary?’

She nodded sharply and he winced, turning on the small lamp next to him. The look on her face made him wish he had left them in the dark.

‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice sounded pained and tired, a tone he had become used to throughout the last few weeks.

‘Just...’ He raised his glass slightly ‘And you?’

She felt a wave of sadness wash over her at his hesitation.

‘Nothing really. I just needed to escape that room.’

He nodded, ‘I know what it feels like.’

‘Do you?’ The retort was past her lips before she could stop herself and she felt ashamed as she saw him deflate and look downwards.

He looked at her once again and she knew what was coming. She knew what he was about to say and she hated him for it, hated herself for not being able to forgive him and for not hating him enough.

‘I’m so sorry Hill. I’m so sorry.’

And looking back on it later, that might be the moment that her heart finally broke.

* * *

 

He watched as her defenses dropped one by one replaced by an expression so full of pain that his very soul ached for her. For them. All he wanted was to wrap her tight in his arms and promise her that it would be okay and it killed him that he couldn’t. He had hurt her and she was hurting him now but if he couldn’t at least comfort her then what kind of marriage did they have left.

He pulled her close, waiting for her permission which she willingly gave, burrowing her head into his shoulder. He tightened his embrace as he felt her shake and let out several shallow, shaky breaths. His shoulder grew wet from her tears and she shook harder. After what seemed like an eternity, her breathing grew slightly calmer Finally, she released herself from his hold, looking up at him.

‘Thank you’

She bit her lip again and he looked back, barely knowing what to do but wanting desperately to comfort her further. Searching her eyes for some kind of answer to a question he didn’t know. After a pause she took another deep breath in before leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. Before he could react she had moved away, whispering goodnight softly as she left. He stood there in a slight shock a small smile coming over his face. Perhaps all hope was not lost after all. He thought back to the kiss, the feeling of her lips touching his. It had tasted of forgiveness and it had tasted of her.


End file.
